


like the boy who cried wolf.

by shikae (39smooth)



Category: Block B
Genre: Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Nilili Mambo!AU, Pirate!AU, Slight Violence, Swearing, almostcrack!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/39smooth/pseuds/shikae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nilili Mambo!AU. Lots of swearing, sex, and gunfights. Taeil is a fucking genius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like the boy who cried wolf.

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the Nilili Mambo MV. A plotline for a crazy video.

 

_“You’re gonna have to take care of them, Jiho.”_

_“But hyung—“ he starts, nearly tripping over himself in his shock. His brother’s really leaving him?_

_“Don’t!” he barks, making Jiho shrink back slightly. He’s about five years senior to Jiho’s seventeen, and is a commanding force when present. “Stand up straight like the man you’re supposed to be. You’re a leader now, and you’re gonna have to be the fucking best leader in the world.”_

_Jiho’s eyes are downcast. “When are you coming back?”_

_“Don’t ask questions like that, Jiho. It makes you look weak.” And Jiho doesn’t want that, so he stands up straight and looks his brother right in the eye. His brother has a constant expression of solidarity on his face. For a second, Jiho wonders whether that’s the reason he doesn’t want to be their leader anymore. Maybe he’d rather be alone where no one can get him than continue living this life, this life of being on the chase for as long as he lives. Then, his brother sighs softly, and clasps his hand on Jiho’s shoulder. Jiho tenses up._

_His brother frowns. “Just… try not to miss me too much, okay, kid? I’ll be back.”_

_Jiho wants to ask again, when, when, when will that be? But his brother is already turning away._

_Just as his brother reaches the door, he stops, and turns back around, pulling out his gun. The thought flashes through Jiho’s mind, maybe he’s going to shoot me for being weak in front of him, maybe I’m not good enough for him, but all his brother does is place the gun onto the table._

_“Take it.” His voice is quiet now. “Use it well.”_

_And he leaves._

_Jiho stands there, frozen for a minute, before he forces himself to approach the table, and pick up the gun that’s been left on the table. It’s beautiful, all sleek metal and cold steel, and the letters ‘t. w.’ are engraves on the side._

_His fingers trace over the letters._

 

 

 

 

Pirates.

Zico scoffs. He hates the word. Pirates? What the fuck are they, characters from a crappy movie with parrots and monkeys and lots of rum?

(Though, lately Jihoon has been wanting to buy a parrot and teaching him insults. And, they do consume rather large amounts of rum on off days. It still worries him how much Yukwon can drink without passing out.)

Zico prefers the term, ‘ragged, fuck-all, high-profile thieves.’ Because they don’t have a fucking ship, no matter how much Kyung haggles for prices with the men at the docks ( _“We’re not getting a motherfucking sampan!” shrieks Zico, “I don’t care that it only costs sixty-two ringgit, we’re not riding around in a boat the size of our fridge!”_ ) so they’re not really pirates, and they only dabble in the most expensive thefts known to mankind.

Okay, fine, he knows he’ll never match up to Danny Ocean and his eleven—or twelve, or thirteen—but  a man can dream, can’t he?

But people will keep calling them pirates. Maybe it’s because of that one job where he tried to con people into buying pirated discs for triple the price, promising 5020p quality when in reality, there’s no such thing. But Zico digresses.

Right now, he sits in a hellhole of a salon, attempting to look like he doesn’t care that there are two bloody huge diamonds sitting in a velvet-lined briefcase on the table behind him, and Zico continues to con the two hulking Vietnamese men into believing that he indeed is the mob boss that they are promising the diamonds to in exchange for more than one hundred and four billion Vietnamese dong.

He’s doing a damn good job of it too, and the second they leave, Zico makes a run for it, grabbing the briefcase and splitting down the corridor. Fate is never on his side, so he takes his chances when he can.

The others better be ready where they are.

 

 

 

 

 

“Yes?”

“ _You idiots!_ ” screams a voice on the other end of the line. “ _This is one of the biggest deals we’ve ever done, and you’re late? Tell me you’re stuck in fucking traffic or some shit, because there is no way you’re fucking this up!_ ”

“What—wait, you mean you’re with the client now?”

“ _Of course I’m with the client—who the fuck are you with?_ ”

“We’re with the client too?”

“ _… get those fucking diamonds back, now!_ ”

 

 

 

 

 

“ _Taeeeeeeeeeeeil!_ ”

The unmistakable hollering of his group leader rings down the corridor, as Taeil turns lazily, sucking on a lollipop. He’s been waiting at the little candy store for nearly half an hour, observing the multitude of local and imported snacks on sale. The little old lady at the stall gives him a lollipop for free, for buying out all her lemon chews.

Zico runs into view, out of breath and holding up a shiny black briefcase.

Fucking  _finally_.

“You’ve got the diamonds?” Taeil peers at the briefcase. Six-digit, easy combination to guess. “Have you checked whether they’re real?”

Zico sneers. “Of course they’re real, they fell hook, line and sinker for my act. They wouldn’t bring fakes.”

“Are you sure?” Taeil’s fingers are itching to get on those beautiful diamonds. “You never know what might happen.”

He sees Zico waver for a second, and he knows he’s got him. Taeil has always been Zico’s most trusted man in the group, even beating out Kyung, whom he’s never understood the dynamics between. Some sort of love-hate relationship. But enough of that.

 Now, the briefcase unlocks under his nimble fingers, and the diamonds gleam in the dim light overhead. Taeil thinks they look beautiful. Best stash they’ve ever gotten their hands on.

But the moment is spoiled by the arrival of the men, now doubled, as they yell at the two of them from across the hallway, waving guns madly in the air. They look furious. They should be.

Taeil grins. The chase has begun. “Run, run!”

And they sprint for the proverbial hills.

 

 

 

 

 

_His fingers trace over the familiar letters on his brother’s gun—his gun, now._

_He watches the scene unfold in front of him with little to no interest. It’s homey, it’s familiar, but it’s lacking slightly. Kyung and Jihoon fight for the remote, and Yukwon is drinking all their beer again, and Minhyuk is doing multiple pushups on the floor. Jaehyo is scrawled over the couch, watching whatever’s on the television._

_Jiho sits at the table, wondering how so much changed after so little time._

_It has barely been three years, and already they are one of the most infamous groups in the South-East Asia region. Block B, the not-so pirates with the too-young leader and the most mismatched bunch of kids for a group, able to pull off heists like no other, and with a success rate of near 70%._

_Mismatched is probably the best word out of them all to describe them. Jiho, the twenty-year-old leader, half-blind from a parang flung backwards at the wrong moment, and with the dirtiest mouth nobody would dare to wash out even with a bar of soap attached to a metre-long pole. Kyung, the region-renowned prodigy of an assassin, and young ex-apprentice to one of the master assassination groups on the continent, yet turned thief. Minhyuk, ex-boxer and martial arts extraordinaire, hired as a sort-of permabodyguard for the group, who still hasn’t left after two years of cracking knuckles and threatening glares. Jihoon, the one who could get you anything and anyone, who kept his little black book of contacts tucked into the bottom of his shoe, who played mahjong like a boss and never lost once. Jaehyo, their resident distraction, practically useless when it comes to anything other than sweet-talking women. And Yukwon, the most mysterious of them all. In love with anything that can fire bullets, he does jobs, disappears for long periods of time, and comes back just in time for the next one._

_Jiho still thinks that Yukwon’s fraternizing with enemy groups. Yukwon swears that he’s just escaping the hunt._

_This is one of the rarer moments that Yukwon is here. Usually, he’d be off doing god-knows-what in the dead of the night, off for weeks, and a tiny pang strikes him inside when flashes of his brother doing the same appear in the forefront of his mind._

_He watches them all out of one good eye, still toying with his gun, and notices the way Yukwon discreetly slips out of the room, covered by Kyung and Jihoon’s bickering, followed a minute later by Minhyuk._

_Jiho’s eyes narrow. So, maybe there is a reason Minhyuk’s stuck around this long._

 

 

 

 

_“Fuck,” breathes Minhyuk harshly, clawing his way across Yukwon’s collar, and Yukwon responds by scraping his teeth across the skin of Minhyuk’s neck painfully, leaving marks and bruises where he can. He leaves dark stains on Minhyuk every time he comes back, and Minhyuk loves it, craves it desperately, and lets it happen when he can. He lets Yukwon press handprints into his waist, dig nails into the sides of his wrists, bite hard on the corner of his lip and make him bleed._

_He lets Yukwon have his way with him, and he doesn’t mind one single bit._

_Yukwon groans, throaty and guttural  and makes a feral attempt to kiss Minhyuk’s lips off, his tongue wet heat tracing the inside of Minhyuk’s mouth, and it makes Minhyuk whimper almost, pulling, tugging, wanting him closer, close enough for him to feel, to touch, to taste._

_“Let me fuck you,” hisses Yukwon needily, and he kisses Minhyuk again, this time letting his hands trail downwards to Minhyuk’s jeans, fingers deft around his zipper, and Minhyuk just nods his approval, panting and so turned on and just wanting Yukwon to do anything with those fingers of his._

_It’s like this every single time, Yukwon asking and Minhyuk giving, and it’s the best fucking feeling in the world. The way Yukwon makes him arch into his fingers, the way he can get Yukwon to make those gorgeous mewling sounds just with his lips wrapped around Yukwon’s cock, the way they fuck like the next time will never come._

_Tonight, Yukwon fucks him against the wall, and it’s not fast-paced like what they usually do. Yukwon’s come back, eyes dark and tired with the knowledge of something heavy, and Minhyuk indulges him. He meets Yukwon’s thrusts, steady and slow, one leg wrapped around Yukwon’s waist and the other curled over the back of his knee, and it’s painful but Minhyuk loves painful. Yukwon’s face is contorted into an expression of desperation, to just let everything go and only have this moment, while it lasts._

_Tonight, Yukwon really fucks him like there’s no tomorrow, and when he comes, he can’t remember a moment before this that’s felt as amazing. Yukwon lets out a strangled noise when he himself reaches his limit, and edges his teeth against the curve of Minhyuk’s shoulder._

_They stay like that for almost a whole minute, before they come to their senses properly, pulling apart with slight winces, and attempting to clean up the best they can._

_As Yukwon shrugs on his jacket, still covered in sweat from head to toe, and Minhyuk shuffles his jeans back up his hips, he hears Yukwon say faintly, “I found Jiho’s brother.”_

_Minhyuk stops. Freezes, because he knows nobody’s brought up Jiho’s brother ever since he left three years ago, leaving inexperienced Jiho to take over the family business. “What?”_

_“He’s dead.” It’s all Yukwon will say at this point._

_All Minhyuk can reply with is a silent, “He doesn’t have to know.”_

_They completely miss the silvery-looking eye, visible through a crack in the blinds, as they leave the room._

 

 

 

 

“Kyung, Kyung, fuck, take this!”

A briefcase gets shoved into his chest roughly, as Zico and Taeil run past him, limbs flailing. Four men, waving guns (but not shooting, strangely enough), run after them, completely ignoring the fact that Kyung’s holding the briefcase.

Kyung glances at the chicken beside him. “Looks like breakfast is postponed.”

It squawks indignantly, and tilts its head. Kyung gives it a toothy grin.

Looks like his plan is coming along well.

While the two are distracted by guns and runs, Kyung opens the briefcase (conveniently left with the combination, thanks to Taeil) and beams at the diamonds. In a flash, he’s swapped them out for fakes, and stashed the real ones in the back of the wall, where he covers up the small hole he’s made with a flyer he pocketed from a market nearby.

This is probably one of his best ideas yet. Getting Taeil to help him steal the diamonds, the five million dollar diamonds, Kyung laughs on the inside. Scamming Zico with such an easy plan? He feels rather proud of himself—and slightly hungry.

He makes a last-ditch attempt at killing the feathered beast with his frying pan, and it flaps itself out of the room. Kyung sulks, feeling his stomach rumble, and picks up the briefcase, waiting for Zico and Taeil to come back.

They do, and it’s merely to drag him along on the escape to the roof. They never notice the smug look Kyung has on his face.

 

 

 

 

 

Pyo grins. “Looks like I’ve won again.”

“Looks like it,” says Minhyuk quietly, and the other two men they’re currently clinking tiles with scowl furiously. Pyo is a master at mahjong, everybody knows, and they’re just asking for trouble by matching him with double the money.

Pyo, of course, is as confident as ever, and sweeps the table.

The men are incensed. Or, at least, Minhyuk thinks they are, until one of them receives a call. Now, they just look outraged.

Oh, here come the guns. Minhyuk rolls his eyes. Everything is always solved with guns nowadays. He wonders dryly why he even sticks around the group, if all he does is play mahjong with Pyo and look intimidating. Then, flashes of a certain gunman appear in his head, and he swallows slightly, remembering just why.

Pyo’s cool, he gets it, they’re mad because he’s won. But the men shriek something unintelligible that Minhyuk’s ears filter as “stolen” and “diamonds” in his not-so-good Vietnamese, and immediately his eyes widen.  _Oh shit._

Flipping into action, Minhyuk takes out the man in front of him while Pyo disarms the one with the gun trained on him. They work well together, they do, Minhyuk thinks as he locks the man in a vicious half-nelson, and glances over to see Pyo swing a beautiful right-hook at the man. Minhyuk grins; he taught Pyo that.

They manage to make a break for it, and slam straight into Kyung and Taeil on their way up to the roof. They’re halfway up when Minhyuk furrows his brow.

“Where’s Zico?”

 

 

 

 

 

The pretty girl titters, and leans in to kiss Jaehyo, as Jaehyo does the same. She’s had one too many drinks, and Jaehyo is totally on his way to getting laaaaaaaid tonight—

“Alright, break it up, Jaehyo, we gotta go!”

A briefcase is thrust into his hands, and Jaehyo stares at him in disbelief. Goddammit. Another hot girl, evaded.

He watches Zico saunter off, and he winks at the girl. “Catch you around.”

She doesn’t look too impressed.

Jaehyo skips off, trying to catch up with what Zico’s saying. Something about a roof.

Maybe it’s the hair. Yeah.

 

 

 

 

 

Yukwon is bored.

Sure, he’s had time to admire the sleek new gun he’s added to his collection recently, all polished and beautiful and just waiting to be used on an unsuspecting person, but waiting for two hours? Not his element.

He’s more of the,  _okay, got to fucking move now otherwise I’m dead_ , kind of guy.

But finally! The others reach the roof, and bring some delicious action with them.

Also, diamonds.

But those are nothing compared to getting the chance to croon at those lovely, disheveled faces while he aims at their faces. He barely notices the others slipping off into the alternate exit down the side of the building.

The corner of his mouth tilts up. Three, two, one—

_Click._

Yukwon wants to scream. His gun has never jammed before, not once in his life. Then, he remembers who he found lingering near his collection after he’d returned from his little escapade with Minhyuk last week. He narrows his eyes.

_Park, fucking, Kyung._

He makes a mental note to kill Kyung later, if Zico hasn’t already by the time he catches up with them.

For now, he concentrates on not getting beat up. Too badly.

 

 

 

 

 

“Alright, everyone here?”

Zico glances around at the group. Minhyuk and Pyo, looking slightly disheveled, but alright. Yukwon, a mess of cuts and grazes and glaring furiously at Kyung for some reason. Taeil, out of breath slightly (but that’s rather expected), and Jaehyo, looking forlornly at the phone number written on his arm in lipstick, already smudged out.

Onto the real business now.

They’re gathered on the top of another building, and Zico gleefully rubs his hands together, advancing on the briefcase, sitting idly on the remains of some stone object. He can’t wait to see his precious loot.

“Great job lads, as usual. We’re gonna split it like we usually do, so don’t worry about… not… getting any…” Zico’s voice trails off as the inside of the briefcase meets his eyes. “What the fuck.”

It’s empty.

Zico swings around, gun immediately pointing at them. “Alright, which one of you did it?”

Yukwon immediately growls, “Park Kyung!”

Kyung’s eyes widen. He knows he put fakes into the briefcase. Why isn’t there anything in there? He swallows, backing up slightly, and Zico aims at him.

Limbs flailing, all of them make a break for it, as Zico roars his disapproval, guns blazing.

But then again, nobody ever notices the unnoticeable. Taeil slips away quietly, laughing inwardly at their stupidity.

Somewhere, tucked away safely, are two very shiny, expensive, brilliant diamonds, and they are all his.

Taeil is a fucking genius.

 

 

 

 

 

_“Well, we tried,” says Jiho to the makeshift tombstone he’d made for his brother. “I tried.”_

_The wind sweeps daisies up around his feet._

_Jiho hums. “Thanks, though. For leaving me the chase. I’m glad. If I don’t have you, at least I’ll have this.”_

_His one good eye beams with determination. “See you, brother.”_

_Jiho stomps away, leaving the crumbling little hill next to the sea._

_Taewoon’s always liked the sea._

 

 

 

 

 

“So, uhm.” Jaehyo hopes he doesn’t sound too desperate. “You free tonight?”

The phone beeps its dial-tone, the familiar hung-up sound ringing in Jaehyo’s ears.

Jaehyo pouts.

 

 

 

 

 

_“What do you mean you got conned into conning me?” snarls Jiho, eyes glinting madly. He’s advanced on Kyung so much so that he’s pressed up into the ragged old counter, and Kyung glares back._

_“I mean, how the fuck would I know that Taeil would outsmart my fucking brilliant plan with his own fucking brilliant plan?” Kyung grabs the front of Jiho’s shirt and shakes him a little. “We should be going after the little jerk!”_

_Jiho hisses, “I’m more concerned about the fact that you tried to double-cross me, and the fact that you almost got away with it, and I don’t fucking care how impressive it was, you still tried!”_

_They stare at each other, ferocity brimming behind both gazes, and the tension is thick and silent in the room, until Kyung breathes, “You’re fucking unbelievable,” and yanks Jiho in for a rough kiss._

_Jiho kisses back fiercely, and to an outside eye it might almost seem like they were fighting, with the intense way they were grappling at each other. In truth, they were.  Just, with less punching and more tongue._

_Finally, after what seems like hours, they throw each other away, breathing hard. Jiho’s lip is cut, and upturned in a snarl, and the bruise on Kyung’s jawline is sure to stay for at least a week._

_“I’m still mad at you,” whispers Jiho, eyes never leaving Kyung’s face._

_Kyung breathes harshly, and hisses, “Well, I’m still mad at you too!”_

_They both stalk away from the room, vowing to never speak of it ever again._

_A week later, they find themselves tangled up together in a crummy hotel room on the shores of Bangkok._

_Jiho is still mad at Kyung._

 

 

 

 

 

Taeil cackles. “Looks like I win this round.”

The briefcase snaps shut, and Taeeul frowns at him. “Fine, that was a good one. But I’ll beat you like the last time.”

“Try me,” says Taeil, and he grins, eyes twinkling.

He loves playing these little who-can-steal-the-best-stuff games.

For now, he sits back in his chair, popping lemon chews into his mouth, and wonders happily about his next big heist.

 

 

 

 

_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted to Tumblr and AFF. 
> 
> March '15: Cleaned up and edited a little.


End file.
